Page 20 of Why Do Earls Fall in Love?
Dusk was falling quickly now. Lady Tremaine’s home loomed ahead as they navigated the curve in the shoreline. The footman waited where they’d left him, and the other boats were already back and tied in.
Suddenly, Miss Mayne leaned forward. “Oh, look. The workmen are getting ready to light the fuses.” She placed a hand over his and suddenly the cool air felt warm again. “Might we stay here a moment? See the lighting from this vantage?”
He nodded. They waited. Shadows lengthened as Lady Tremaine’s guests laughed and drank champagne, unaware of the men scurrying at the edges of the lawn and near the clustered topiaries. The boat was drifting again and Whiddon took advantage of the moment and let his gaze linger on her rapt expression and taut anticipation.
Suddenly, the first topiary lit up—and others followed suit at a surprisingly rapid pace. The edges of the lawns also glowed.
Even from here they could hear the company exclaim as the whole party took on a multi-colored, magical glow.
“How beautiful,” she sighed.
“Something’s gone awry with the ones at the pier and down by the boats,” he pointed out. “They haven’t lit up.” The workmen were converging near the shore from all directions.
He started rowing again and maneuvered them in to where the footman waited. Standing, he reached to take her hand.
She gripped his tightly. “I . . .” She let out a sigh. “I just wanted to thank you, Lord Whiddon. For everything.”
They both stood a moment, moving with the slight sway of the boat. It felt oddly like a goodbye, he realized with a twinge of regret. But he understood. Their goals were incompatible.
“It has been my pleasure, Miss Mayne,” he said lightly, but he knew she understood he wished her well.
He helped her onto the shore and the footman moved off, once they were disembarked and the boat was tied off. Without waiting for them, the servant moved to consult with the men clustered around the still-dark topiaries.
The lights were pretty, but they also made the unlit area they stood within feel darker and more isolated. He led her a few steps away to where the bank was smaller. “Be careful as you climb,” he warned her. “Here. Take my hand as you go up.”
She did and stepped up easily. “I wonder where my aunt—Oh!”
He saw it happen and everything looked like it occurred in oddly slow movements. Her foot was raised as she stepped over the edge of the bank to the lawn, but at the same time, the line of fuses raised up from the ground. They caught her foot, tripping her. She gasped and windmilled, trying to keep her balance, but she lost the battle and toppled backwards.
Whiddon didn’t think. There was no time. His body had already reacted. He dove, caught her and rolled with her locked tight in his arms—right into the Thames.
It wasn’t deep. They came up sputtering and sitting waist deep in river water. She scrambled away, in a panic, wiping her eyes. “What? What just—? My shoe! I’ve lost my shoe!”
He looked frantically up towards the bank, but miraculously, nobody had observed them. The area here still lay in darkness. The footman and the workmen were still huddled around their problematic lamps.
“Shh.” He tried to quiet her, but she was splashing about, searching for her lost shoe.
“Who is looking? She peered toward the shore as she climbed to her feet. “C . . . can you see my aunt? How bad is it? Are they staring?”
Reaching out to take her arms, he realized she was shivering, likely as much from reaction as from the chill. “Miss Mayne,” he said low. “Miss Mayne. Charlotte!”
Hearing him use her given name caught her attention.
“Do be quiet. No one has yet realized what has happened.”
“Oh. That’s g . . . good.”
“Yes.” He helped her to stand. “Now, listen. Let me get you back onto the lawn, then I will sneak along the edges and around the house. I’ll have a servant fetch your aunt to you here. Stay here, near the boats. You can say you came back, for a bit of lost jewelry or your gloves or something. You tell them you lost your balance in the boat and fell into the water. Do you hear me? Can you do this?”
“Y . . . y . . . yes.” She pushed back a hanging lock of wet hair.
“Good. Your aunt can whisk you home. Then we will both make it through this unscathed.”
“Y . . . yes. It’s a good plan.” She was recovering now. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome. Fine, then. I’m off.” But he didn’t let go of her arms. He just stared down at her, faint in the dark. But even in the dim light, he could see her eyes were huge and her gown was clinging to her.
He didn’t mean for it to happen. One moment he was letting her go and the next he’d pulled her in against his chest and pressed his mouth to hers.
